


#WeArePotatoes

by Katya_D_R_Rarewyne



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Clubbing, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Donuts, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foodie, Nervousness, Panic Attacks, Rainbows, Talking Potatoes, Terrible Jokes, Weird Band Names, subtext-ace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 08:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katya_D_R_Rarewyne/pseuds/Katya_D_R_Rarewyne
Summary: She shakes the feeling away, and leans onto the table to catch her breath. Her glasses slip down her nose, and she shakes her head a little just as she glances backward. They freeze for a moment, and Kara’s hands press so hard into the table, it creaks. Irish Potato? what even? gives her a slow, full smile, and it is honestly the most heady thing Kara has ever experienced…and she has been on a fifteen doughnut sugar rush before.****Or...the thing where someone talks about potatoes, rainbows, and donuts, a lot****





	#WeArePotatoes

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Description of a Panic Attack in the first few paragraphs of the third section  
> **This Kara is ace-spec, but not explicitly stated, so additional CW for a kiss.**

**#WeArePotatoes**

She sits at a table in her favourite coffee shop, mug hovering beneath her chin, steam rising from her hot chocolate, and she smiles. Her hands are warm, the heat of the mug leaching into her skin; a pleasant sensation in the chill of the rainy afternoon. Spread across the table are her sketchpad, and pens, an incomplete warmup of the pup slumbering beneath the table two seats over from her, gracing the pages. Beneath those are the science journals she was perusing earlier, the ends of dog-eared pages peeking out from under the sketchpad above it. It is when she hears it—a quiet, throaty laugh that caresses the nape of her neck, settles low in her stomach—that she glances up, catches a curtain of sliding black hair across the room, half shielding the lines of an angular jaw, bold red lips settling around a straw; it is when she hears _that,_ that she upsets the balance of everything. Hot chocolate spreads across the table, soaking into the half-finished sketch. The pup wakes, startled, and whimpering, as her chair is scraped back hard, curses muttered, and the table flipped over.

Her mouth works in an effort to form milder words, lips closing, and opening, as the heat of an embarrassed flush rises up her neck, floods her cheeks, dampens her skin. She looks down quickly, muttering apologies while her hands flail to return order. Gentle chuckles float around the room, and the woman with the pup reaches over to hand her tissues.

A voice calls from behind the counter, “Kara, darlin’, you okay? You look like someone just announced your marriage, and forgot to tell you it was today, corazón.”

“Annabella, leave our girl alone. Unless you’re planning to make good on _your_ marriage proposal, Kay’s just fine, and she don’t need any of your teasin’.”

“If she ever makes up her mind, I’ve got a doughnut right here with her name on it.”

The nervous frenzy eases, and Kara takes a deep breath. Accidents happen, and this one is no more embarrassing than all the others she’s had. She smiles, and adjusts her glasses, walking over to the counter as the room settles. “You’re forgetting, Annabella, I want a rainbow doughnut, with chocolate baked into it, the right to name Lily’s first born child, _and_ a unicorn to be my friend, just because they’re pretty.”

“I’m only Annabella when you’re about to break my heart,” she laughs, handing over extra tissues, and a damp cloth for the table.

Kara laughs, and hugs her, kissing her on the cheek, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “You’re my hot chocolate wife, Bella, isn’t that enough? No one else makes them like you.”

Annabella sighs. “But I can’t bake so you’ll never make it official.”

“And the unicorn is the easy part?” an amused voice asks from beside them.

Kara startles, knocking over the containers of sugar, and cream. Annabella raises an eyebrow in question, but Kara barely notices. Beside her is the woman from earlier. The start of this whole…mess. She is all sparkling peridot eyes, shot through with teal, and grey, and hazel. Dark hair falls around her in light waves, framing her face. Her head is tilted to one side, lips curved in a wicked grin, chin jutting upward sharply. She’s breath-taking, Kara thinks, and is dimly aware that a low curse leaves her mouth the second she realises that. 

Annabella saves her, and Kara backs away slowly, turns as they begin bantering back, and forth. Still, she can hear them, even as she rights the table that was knocked over. Their voices are low, but clear, and she finds herself listening to… _her._

 _God, I’m an Irish potato compared to my mother. I mean, I’m adopted, but you’d think I’d have picked up **some** thing from her glorious existence. _ 

She frowns slightly, pulling apart the damp pages in her hand. The woman is anything _but_ potato. Kara’s never seen a potato look like _that_ …and as an out, and proud foodie, she has seen more than her fair share of potatoes.

Kara stops, blushes. That sounds a little too innuendo-y, but she knows what she means. Behind her, a third voice joins the conversation, and Kara surreptitiously slips around the still messy table, to get a look.

Beside _her,_ is another woman, butting shoulders with… _Irish Potato_? They seem close, and casually familiar with each other. They’re all loose limbs, and comfortable invasion of space. Kara feels her stomach sink, clenches her jaw to stem the sudden onslaught of feelings that hit her. She’s filled with a sensation of loss for something she hadn’t even realised she wanted. Suddenly, she’s sixteen again, and all the pretty girls, and boys hang together, and all the unspoken rules sit like a warning between her, and them.

She shakes the feeling away, and leans onto the table to catch her breath. Her glasses slip down her nose, and she shakes her head a little just as _she_ glances backward. They freeze for a moment, and Kara’s hands press so hard into the table, it creaks. _Irish Potato?_ _what even?_ gives her a slow, full smile, and it is honestly the most heady thing Kara has ever experienced…and she has been on a fifteen doughnut sugar rush before. (She doesn’t talk about what happened _after._ No one is allowed to.) A shudder runs through her at the thought, and Irish Potato quirks her eyebrow slightly—all curious eyes, and gently amused mouth. The woman beside her leans in to say something, and Kara looks away.

“Kara, corazón, here’s another hot chocolate,” Annabella calls. “Do you want a sandwich, too, or are you leaving early today?”

“Just my chocolate, please, Bella. And a coffee for Alex.”

“Ahh. ¿Dónde está es tu hermana? She’s not meeting you today?”

She wades through the tables, damp cloth back in hand, as she answers. “She’s picking me up, but she has to head back into work. They’re swamped with paperwork, and I have research to wrap up today.”

Annabella nods, and tops off her cup with whipped cream. She’s holding it out to Kara, when she turns to the women still leaning against the counter. “Lena, what about We Are Potatoes?”

“Annabella, just because I _look_ like an Irish potato, it doesn’t mean I am in contact with _all_ potatoes. What are you talking about?”

“Reign, please tell your woman that she isn’t very funny.”

“Six years of friendship, and she’s never listened to me. Why would she start today, Bella?”

“You know you love me, Reign, _and_ my terrible sense of humour. Otherwise you’d have traded me in for a new best- _friend_ the summer of 2010—”

Kara looks up, and she swears _Lena?_ emphasises the word _friend_ , as her gaze flickers to her, and back to _Reign?_ who is saying: 

“—when you dragged me to that god-awful concert in the rain, and made us stay in a flea-bitten van in the most sketchy part of California? Yes. You’re still on probation, and every rickety van I see is a reminder of how close I was to murdering you, _and_ ending our friendship.”       

“Right,” Lena laughs. “Now about these potatoes, Annabella.”

Kara takes her hot chocolate, and sips from it.

“They’re a band in town tonight. I know it will be rainy—”

“Bella, please do _not_ give her ideas.”

“Relax, Reign. This one is indoors. No one has to travel in a van, and this is actually at one of the nicer spots in town. Think the drummer is related to some rich family, or other, and is riding all the perks. No offense meant, Lena.”

“None taken. Where are we talking? Downtown? Central District? What?”

“It’s actually just a few blocks from here. That new club that moonlights as a lunch spot in the daylight hours.”

“The one across the street from Noonan’s? O‘Reilly‘s?”

“I forgot about them. No, the other one, with the weird, wannabe millennial name. _Vamp Out_? Or something like that.”

Lena looks vaguely interested, and Kara, herself, is a little curious about all these potatoes. What kind of band names itself _We Are Potatoes_? She pulls her phone out from the pockets of her slacks, and searches them up.

There’s absolutely nothing online, except some weird [YouTube video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utUhUWGt-XM) about the experiences of talking potatoes who want to ‘celebrate the similarities and differences we all share’ _what?_ and random recipes for potato salad. She’d like to see this We Are Potatoes, but she’s flying kind of blind, no pun intended, she thinks, as she adjusts her glasses, and waits for the blurred text to realign itself. With the dearth of Google hits, she can’t even tell if they’re her type of band, but with a name like that…

“I think we’ll take a look. I definitely want to see my fellow potatoes in action. Do you mind, Reign? I know you have that meeting in the morning.”

“We can, but we’ll have to leave early. Some of us _do_ actually need our beauty sleep.”

“ _Well_ , I do take pride in my vampiric ways, but we both know it takes me hours to transform from potato to vampire. You, on the other hand, wake up, and roll out of bed. You don’t know how _annoyingly_ envious I am.”

Reign laughs, and pulls Lena away. “It’s the melanin. Bella, we’ll see you later. I have to meet with our focus group to prep for the meeting. Thank you for the coffee!”

“And the suggestion, Annabella. We’ll definitely drop by there tonight,” Lena says, as her gaze lingers on Kara.

“No problem. Tell me everything the next time you come in!”

Kara watches them leave, arms thrown around each other, Lena’s head thrown back in laughter, and feels the twinge of a thing she refuses to name. Annabella cocks her head in the periphery of her vision, and pokes her in the cheek. She meets her gaze, reaching out to pick up the coffee.

“Are you, all right, corazón?”

“I’m okay. Just a little bit of a mood slump. Nothing my hot chocolate won’t fix when the sugar rush hits.”

“Do you need some help cleaning up the rest of your stuff before Alex gets here?”

“Yes, please. My sketchpad is probably a lost cause, but I really need to deal with those journals for tonight.”

Kara sips on her hot chocolate, and waits for Annabella to finish up behind the counter so they can walk back to the…mess…together. Her phone buzzes with a message from her mentor at the institute.

_Kara,_

_I know we were supposed to talk over some of your research tonight, but I have a family emergency. We’ll have to reschedule for later this week. Let me know when you’ll be free, and I will rearrange my calendar._

_—Cat_

Her lips twist down in concern. Cat never cancels anything, and the only family she talks about is her son Carter.

_I hope everything is okay, Cat. Let me know if you need anything, and give Carter my love._

—K.  

_I appreciate that. Thank you, Kara._

—Cat

Well, then. That frees up her evening, Kara muses, unfortunate though it may be. Alex is swamped, and Cat is dealing with something. Her other friends already have plans for the night, and she could really use a break that does not involve staring at the four walls of her apartment.

She opens up her phone, and re-accesses her browser. The search sits there. _Damn_ , _that potato salad looks kind of good._ She regrets not taking the sandwich. The results sit there a _little_ longer, and she can feel her mind leaning towards both the potato salad, and a night out. Her mind flits across the new outfits she has yet to wear. It’s not like Lena will notice her any way, but…it wouldn’t hurt to try? She was very specific, after all. She, and Reign were _only_ best-friends. Totally implied platonic best-friends. That had to count for _some_ hint. 

 

* * *

 

She stands outside the club, shivering slightly in the cool air. The lights are dim, and all dark hues. The line is long, but not unmanageable. She can’t hear the music from outside the club, but she is beginning to think this is a mistake. Everyone around her is outfitted in black, and silver, and piercings that glint in the lights from the nearby streetlamps. She feels slightly out of place in her jeans, and button-up shirt, perky bow-tie, and loose blazer. Her hair tickles her lightly, and she’s glad she left it down. Between its modest, uncoloured blondeness, and the non-spiky black boots, she doesn’t quite feel a part of this, but at least no one can tell the only piercing she has are the pair of studs hidden by her hair.

The line at the door shifts, moving orderly, but she opts to walk back to her bike, and wait there. The body is still warm, giving off heat in the night air, and she’s careful to avoid the exhaust. She’s had her love long enough to have learned that lesson.

She leans against the bike, and looks up, watching the smoggy sky, for what, she’s not sure, but there’s nothing to distract her, beyond the quiet murmur of the club behind her. For a second, she thinks of getting back on her bike, and letting this go. There’s a quiet nervousness in her stomach that has been there since she stood in front of her mirror at two o‘clock in the afternoon, surrounded by clothing. It’s now ten, and the feeling has been there so long, dinner has been completely out of the question. So was lunch, if she’s being honest.

Her stomach is about two seconds away from growling loudly when a familiar voice fills the quiet area.

Kara turns around, and is struck by _Lena_ all over again. She’s walking up the street, arm in arm with Reign. Their heads are bent low, and as they pass under a street light, Kara’s gaze lingers on the side-cut Lena’s now sporting. A row of piercings glitter on the shell of her exposed ear, and with each sparkle of a gemstone, Kara loses every ounce of confidence that got her out the door, and to this club. _What **was** she thinking? _ Lena will take one look at her, and smirk, and never glance her way again.

She climbs onto her bike, nudges up the kickstand, pulls her keys from her jeans pocket, and starts the engine. The ignition rumbles to life beneath her, engine purring between her thighs, waiting for her to move. _This is so…so…not smart._ It is the least smart thing she’s ever done. All she has to do is get down off the bike, and say ‘hi’. That’s it.

Her gaze lifts from the dials of the bike, and she looks up straight into Lena’s eyes.  She’s dimly aware that Reign is murmuring into Lena’s ear, eyeing her with mild amusement. Lena is nodding, but she hasn’t moved, her gaze beckoning. Kara looks away, grip tight on the handles of her bike. The nervous tension rises within her so sharply, she reflexively guns the engine.

The loud roar startles everyone, and Kara is simultaneously glad she is still holding on to the clutch, and brakes, while wishing she _had_ taken a ride straight into the damned wall across the street.

She lets go of the handle bars, and realises she’s trapped any way. Her gloves, and jacket, and helmet, are still in the storage boot of the bike, _and_ Lena has already seen her. Lena is looking at her. Lena is walking towards her. Lena is walking towards her. _Lena_ is walking _towards **her.**_

She curses, and immediately turns the ignition off. This would not be a good time to go crashing into a wall. No time is, really, but this very moment, especially, does not work for her. **_Lena_** is walking towards **_her._**   

“Hey.”

“He-ey.” Her voice is high-pitched, and tight, an uncomfortable thing compared to Lena’s suaveness.

“You’re the woman from the coffee shop. Woman of one hot chocolate wife. Future hopeful friend to one invisible unicorn. Namer of Lily’s firstborn child.”

Kara laughs, and feels every inch of her skin go warm. She remembers—“You were paying an awful lot of attention to a conversation about doughnuts, and unicorns.”

Lena shrugs, smiles up at her, and Kara is suddenly conscious of the fact that she’s taller than her. It’s especially pronounced with the bike elevating her.

“Who doesn’t pay attention to blue-eyed goddesses who ride with the unicorns?”  

Kara’s tongue chooses that particular moment to stay stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“C’mon, Rainbow Doughnut. Let’s see what these potatoes are like.”

Lena’s grin is wide, and bright in the dark. Kara grins back at her, shaking her head lightly. “Why do I have a feeling that name will stick?”

“Mmm. It suits you. You practically _radiate_ sweetness. Anyway, I have to say, it sounds like a flavour of doughnut I’d like to sample; possibly even test the rainbow theory covered in chocolate, but if you’d prefer something else...” Lena bites at her lip for a second, sucking on it, looking up at Kara…and Kara’s bike is on its stand, with her keys in her pocket before she can truly register the action.     

“Right. Why don’t we go look at some potatoes?” She climbs down from the bike, expecting Lena to move. She doesn’t. Instead, they’re suddenly exceptionally close. So close Kara can see her pupils change size; can savour the fragrance of the perfume that lingers around her; can see the fine hairs on her skin glow golden in the streetlight. “Um. Lena? I can’t, um…” She swallows dryly, and takes a deep breath, letting it calm her. She steps closer. “I…wouldn’t really mind standing here, but…” her skin prickles, and she feels a flush work its way through her body, “I’m not sure it would be the best idea.”

“I’m genuinely curious to hear what kind of idea it might be,” Lena says. Her gaze is dark, and a little mischievous; her face upturned, and tilted to the side, breath ghosting over Kara’s chin.

“Potatoes, Lena. Potatoes. Please?” Kara manages to croak out before her voice discovers a mind of its own, and disappears.

Lena chuckles, and cups her chin, eyeing her pensively for a moment. “Potatoes it is, darling.”  She steps back, and beckons towards the club, smile soft, and easy-going.

A few feet away, Reign—wow, Kara had forgotten she was there—is shaking her head slowly, but laughing as she glances at them, phone tucked to her ear. She waves them ahead.

Kara runs a hand through her hair, and feels her body uncoil. Lena nudges her with her shoulder, and she grins up at her as they walk to the line. Lena’s fingers rest low on her back, barely there, as they inch their way forward. Their presence is light, and comfortable, the rest of Lena on the other hand, is everything but. She exudes a quiet, tempting intensity; one that heats Kara’s skin every time she spears her with her eyes; every time she closes the distance between them, and _lets_ her presence overwhelm Kara’s in all the right ways.

If after tonight, she still thinks Lena has little interest in a girl like her, she will smack her ownself in the face. Preferably when it is cooler, not flushed, and not on the verge of sweating from the sheer proximity of _her. Fricking Irish Potato? Unbelievable._

 

* * *

 

_*CW: Description of Panic Attack ahead*_

 

The inside of the club is packed, and dark. The music is pounding inside Kara’s head, and she is a little nauseous from hunger. Honestly, none of this is what she was expecting. We Are Potatoes is metal. Like heavy metal. Like grinding gears, shooting flames, and _growling_ , metal. A love for sounding like _thrash_ metal, heavy metal.

It’s been fifteen minutes, and she’s already nursing a headache. She likes her fair share of metal music (a phase Alex got over, one Kara quietly stole a few songs from), but preferably in her headphones, where she can control it, and not feel inches away from a sensory overload.  She can feel the tightness of her skin, the way all her clothing wraps around her like a heavy sheath of unending fabric. The damned bow-tie, and the collar of her button-up are so close they press against her throat painfully. _Oh God._

Lena is standing beside her, a drink in hand, the other pressed lightly to Kara’s back. The thought makes her panic a little further, because _Oh God_ she’s about to devolve into a panic attack with the arm of one of the most beautiful women she has ever met, wrapped around her. Nothing could be more humiliating.

The pressure weighs at her chest, and her skin is too warm, and her lungs won’t expand, they won’t _frigging work._ She can dimly sense the reassuring presence of Lena’s body grounding her, but even she feels too close in the cramped space, and _Oh God_ this was a bad idea. What was she thinking? What _had_ she been thinking? She should have gotten back onto the damned bike, and—

“Kara? Kara, love? Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

She just needs a breath. One. One full, deep breath. That’s all she needs, and she can bring this back under control.

“Kara?” Lena steps away from her, and even in the haze of the panic, she still acutely feels her absence.

Of course. Of course she manages to mess this up. _Oh God. Make it stop_ , she thinks as she tries for another deep breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tries once more, but that only makes it worse. The noise, and heat of the club swim in her head, and she knows she needs to get to the button of her shirt collar before things become so bad she can’t talk herself down. Yet, in that moment, all she can do is release her hold on the tears that have been threatening since the attack hit. Everything is too hot, and too close, and she needs to go; needs to get out.

“Reign. Help me get her out of here, please.”

“I’ve got you both, Lee.”

 _Thank God._ Kara’s relief is so strong, it quells her mind for a moment, but her body hasn’t caught up to it. She can just make out Reign pushing her way through the crowd, making a path for them. Lena is beside her, arm hovering around Kara, but not touching her. They force their way through the crowd until Kara feels cool air hit her skin, and her body sags in relief.

“Listen to my voice, Kara,” Lena murmurs. “We’re outside. It’s cool, and there’s air. The sky is dark, but the smog has cleared up, and there are stars.”

Kara nods, hands reaching for her collar, and bow-tie. 

“Reign, grab me some ice, and a damp towel from the bar, please?

“It’s all right, Kara. We’re right here. Let me help you with that. I’m not going to come any closer, but I’m going to reach out, and open your shirt collar for you, okay? Just lean your head back, and let me take care of it for you.”

Lena’s hands are gentle, and Kara leans her head back, forcing her eyes to stay open, and track the night sky. She feels the relief of her bow-tie being unwound, and some of the anxious tightness leaves her body. Next goes her shirt collar, and Kara breathes out slowly, waiting for her heart to slow down. There’s tenderness in the way Lena spreads her shirt collar for her, and a soft care to the way she pushes Kara’s hair off her neck, and away from sweaty skin.

“Here, Kara.” Lena pulls her hand to her chest. “Pace your breaths to mine. In slowly, as deeply as you can go, and out as slowly as you’re comfortably doing.”

They breathe together until the sensation of a cool towel hits her neck.

“Lena, here you go.”

Kara senses the shift of her body through the hand on her chest, and relaxes further when a hand rests briefly with a different towel on her forehead. Then, Lena is wiping her face softly, and her skin feels better beneath her gentle ministrations, and the cool breeze blowing.

They stand together for a while, Lena holding one hand to her chest, the other intermittently wiping her face. Reign refreshes the towel against her neck, and fans her face with something. The street on which the club stands is mostly empty, and Kara can just hear Lena, Reign, and the club security nearby. She takes another moment for herself, then she pulls away from Lena, and their hands fall away from her chest.

She puts distance between herself, and them all, humiliation slowly working its way through her system. “I’m so sorry,” she manages to spit out.

“Kara…you have nothing to apologise for. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, and you’re not the only person who’s had a reaction to hot, crowded spaces. Please don’t apologise to us.”

“I—,” Kara chokes on the words, and she feels her eyes prickle with tears for a different reason. _God, what a disaster._

“It’s fine, Kara. You’re fine. Please don’t overthink this.”

Kara’s stomach chooses that exact moment to growl hungrily, and they all freeze. If there was ever a day Kara wishes could be struck from the calendar, from the history books, from the very existence of the universe, it would be this one. It would be this one up until the second the hole she wishes was there, swallowed her alive, and put her out of her misery.

They stay frozen for another second, and then Reign is chuckling, and Lena is smiling, and neither of them are doing it unkindly, and Kara takes that moment to bury her face in her hands.

“I’m guessing you didn’t eat before you left?” Lena asks wryly. Kara removes her hands. Her lips quirk up in a sheepish grin in response.

Reign smacks Lena gently with the towel in her hand, and grins wickedly. “Maybe she had other plans in mind, Lena. She probably wanted to eat _after_ the show.”

Lena gives Reign a look of horror, and Kara’s eyes track the blush on her cheeks that must surely mirror her own.

“I’m never coming out with you again.”

 _“Finally._ I was beginning to think I was going to need to end our friendship to escape all of your show escapades.”

There’s a huff, and Lena rolls her eyes. Kara smiles, feeling only a little out of place. Reign turns to her, concern written all over her face. “Do you need anything, Kara? If you’re feeling a little better, I can ask one of the security teams to watch your bike while we all get some food. Noonan’s should still be open.”

“Thank you, I would really appreciate it.”

They pass all the towels to Reign, and they watch as she walks back over to the club, ice-bucket swinging off her arm. Lena is quiet, and her face is an open, expressive canvas. Kara can see guilt written into the tiny downward curve of her mouth, and pinched crinkling of the space between her brows.

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

She quirks her head, turning to look up at Kara. Kara’s fascinated by the way her features firm, and transform into seriousness. How different it makes her look from the woman who was teasing her with her eyes, and smile earlier.

“Perhaps. But I do feel responsible. You wouldn’t have been here tonight if it hadn’t been for…”

This time, it’s Kara who nudges shoulders with Lena.  “This was _definitely_ a ‘me’ thing, Lena. It’s not my first rodeo. Usually I don’t fall apart, and embarrass myself around pretty girls, though.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Lena asks with a slight hint of amusement.

“Well you’re certainly _not_ an Irish potato.”

”Oh my God. I’m mortified. You _heard_ that?”         

“Heard it? I’ve been fretting about it all day! Have you _seen_ yourself? You’re a lot of things, Lena, but a potato? That’s _not_ one of them.”

“A lot of things?” Lena’s voice drops a register, and Kara swears she’s practically purring.

“Yes, a _lot_ of things. Like gorgeous for one. Absolutely gorgeous. God, I saw you, and I made a complete fool of myself. Spil—” Kara hushes abruptly, realising what she’s revealing.

Lena turns to face her fully. “Are you saying that you spilled your hot chocolate, knocked over a table, and cursed like a fishwife, because you…saw me?” The question is amused, but Kara hears the deepening of Lena’s accent in it; sees the way her face softens. “I’m positively _flattered_ , Kara.”  

“ _I’m_ **_positively_** embarrassed.”

“Are you _mocking_ me, Rainbow Doughnut? Are you sure you want to incur the wrath of the Irish? I’d thought you might have been hoping for their luck tonight.”

Her meaning registers a beat later, and Kara becomes a sputtering mess. “That wasn’t, I didn’t—Lena!”

Her laughter fills the quiet street, and Kara is hit by the beauty of the sound of it all over again. It trails across her skin, and settles into her stomach, leaving her yearning. Lena pauses to catch a breath, her piercings glittering in the streetlight. “May I…?”

“Kara, if you don’t kiss me right now...” Lena’s eyes are hungry, and dark. Kara loses sight of them the second their lips meet.

Her hands slip into her hair, graze the bristles of her shorn scalp, and cling to the mass of silken waves that float around Lena’s face. Her mouth is filled with the taste of her, the bitter edge of the alcohol she was drinking, the hint of a fruit Kara can’t place her finger on. She doesn’t care. Lena’s lip is in her mouth, and Kara can taste the very flavour of the wax lipstick coating it. _God, yes._      

They part, and they’re both panting. Lena’s lips are swollen, and the lipstick she was wearing for the night is smudged around her mouth. The fall of her hair is rumpled, her side-cut lost to the shifting waves of black hair that were unsettled by Kara’s hands. One hand drops to pull her closer, until they’re pressed flush against each other. Lena breathes against her neck, and Kara just holds her.

“This has been _the_ most rollercoaster day.”

“It’s been _something._ I will give you that. I even got to ta—

“Please don’t say it. Please don’t—”

“Taste the rainbow.”

“Lena!” Kara groans into her hair.

“Come on, darling. I couldn’t resist. It was a classic one. It’d be remiss of me to miss such an opportunity.”

Kara mumbles unintelligibly against her hair.

“You’re right. I’ve only _sampled_ the rainbow. I really must—”

“That’s not what I said at _all._ Please stop. Please stop right there. Is this what I have to look forward to on our next date?”

“This was a date?”

“I—” Kara’s stomach sinks, and some of the lightness filling her, disappears.

“Did you not want…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Lena leans back to look at her. Her mouth, and eyes are set seriously when she asks, “Is that what you want?”

“Is it _not_ what you want?”

“I know my sex appeal, Kara. People see it, and think quick f—k. Dates, much less second ones, aren’t exactly a part of the picture. So—”

“I don’t do that, and I’m not interested in it. I’m interested in _you._ Beyond _that_. _”_

“I—,” she clears her throat, and looks toward the entrance of the club. “This was a lot easier when we were simply talking about potatoes.”

Kara knows a deflection when she sees one, but she perseveres. “You, Lena. You.”

“Me, the Irish potato.”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank God. Kiss me again.”

Kara ducks her head to complete the request, and pauses just as Lena’s breath ghosts over her mouth.

“Lena?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you know that there is a YouTube video with a bunch of animated potatoes singing We Are Potatoes?”

“Kara…” There’s a warning in her voice, and Kara chuckles at it.

“I’m only saying. It was funny? Also, they have more popularity than the _band_ We Are Potatoes. Over one million vie—”

Lena’s mouth devours hers, teeth catching her lower lip with the barest hint of teasing. “No more potato-talk. Later.”

“Good. Your mouths have _finally_ been acquainted with each other.” They jump apart, blushing. Kara feels less than her twenty-six years of age, and almost immediately gives up any effort at looking like the adult she considers herself to be.

“Reign!” Lena utters, and Kara can hear the scandalised tone in her voice. Her blush deepens in reaction.

“Noonan’s? For you two, that is. I am going home now that Lena no longer needs to squeeze my hand, and nervously mumble about the cute girl from the coffee shop.” She tosses Lena a jacket that Kara suspects was in her car. “Ride safely you two.”

Kara gapes at her.

“I was talking about the bike? Behind you?” Reign shakes her head, and Kara hears a low _hopeless,_ whispered. “Bye, Lee. Kara, it was nice to meet you.”

She disappears into the night, and the roar of a car unsettles the street a few seconds later. Kara turns to Lena, pulling her keys from her pocket. She pulls Lena in for a kiss, and her mouth hovers just above her lips, “May I?”

Lena smiles at her, and closes the distance. The kiss is soft, and languid. A tender thing that makes her toes curl, and leaves her entire body heating up. _Fricking Irish Potato?_ Kara sighs into the kiss, groans with pleasure into Lena’s mouth. _Unbe-fricking-lievable._   

                   

    

           

       

**Author's Note:**

> Because Red Devil is hilarious, and together we say the darnedest things. It was only fitting I reward them with this story for putting the idea in my head. Thank you for humouring me! 
> 
> To the rest of you, forgive my terrible sense of humour (please?), and the very chaste ending. I did consider *it*, but I did not want to take this particular story there. I will probably be less innocent with the others. *peeks out from hiding spot* Maybe. *ducks*  
> \- Kat.


End file.
